


Well Kiss My Neck and Tell Me I'm Pretty

by ialpiriel



Series: Do You Remember (Sole Survivor Mal) [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Synth Sole Survivor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A female sole survivor watches Curie get herself off, and offers copious encouragement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Kiss My Neck and Tell Me I'm Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on the [fallout kink meme](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=16984519#t16984519)
> 
> mal has also appeared in my other fics "[Malden Center Station Blues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5403050)" and "[Killcounts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5351300)

“God, look at you,” Mal murmurs, tilts her head back, rests her hands on Curie’s thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

Curie giggles, tips her head down so hes can bump her forehead against the top of Mal’s head.

“Thank you,” she squeaks, presses her knuckles into Mal’s stomach. She laughs, breathless and warm against Mal’s hairline.

“Prettiest synths in the Commonwealth, we are,” Mal continues, leans in to press a kiss to Curie’s breastbone, trail one down onto her ribs. One of Curie’s arms jumps, and she loops it around Mal’s shoulder and neck.

“But you are not beaut--” she starts, confusion etched on her face.

“Shhhh,” Mal replies, laughs, presses a finger to Curie’s lips. “Let me pretend I’m pretty.”

“Oh. Oh! I see,” Curie agrees. She leans down, presses a kiss to the top of Mal’s head. “Then you're very pretty.”

Mal laughs again, rests her hands on Curie’s thighs.

“God, you're already so pretty,” presses a kiss to Curie’s chin. “But you’d be even prettier touching yourself,” presses another kiss to Curie’s throat.

Curie laughs, high and uncertain, drags her fingertips across her thigh, tips her head to press her cheek to Mal’s hair.

“Your praise is so sweet,” she murmurs, giggles again.

“I try,” Mal agrees, peppers kisses across Curie’s chest. “Touch yourself, for me.”

Curie hums, soft and almost-tuneful, snakes her hand down lower. Parts herself gently as Mal sucks a wet kiss at the base of her throat. It won’t leave a mark, outside the slobbery patch, and that’s not really a mark.

Mal tilts her head down, rests her forehead against the slope of Curie’s chest, watches Curie’s fingers. Curie’s arm tightens around her shoulders, and her breath hitches. 

“Touch your clit,” Mal orders, breathes once, hard, lets her breath gust across Curie’s stomach so Curie shivers. “Lightly, first.”

“Yes,” Curie agrees, and Mal traces her fingers up Curie’s arm. She can see the tension, in Curie’s hand, as she tries to keep her touch light, can feel it all the way up her arm into her shoulder. She presses her fingers into Curie’s deltoid, lets Curie lean into the touch. Listens for the tiny hitches in Curie’s breathing.

When she hears them--three gasps, or not-quite gasps, Curie fighting to keep her breathing even--she wraps her arm around Curie’s back, spreads her palm over the curve of Curie’s spine. Curie’s elbow bumps into Mal's bicep, and she jumps. Mal laughs, readjusts her thighs under Curie so Curie leans up on her knees momentarily, presses her hand against herself as she moves.

“Harder now,” Mal whispers, cranes her neck back and straightens her spine as much as she can to hook her chin on Curie’s shoulder, tap the scarred side of her forehead against Curie’s jawline. 

Curie gasps, for real this time, her breath catches in her throat and escapes as a breathy squeak. Curls her hand around, gets two fingers working. Mal rubs her palm across Curie’s thigh, skin sliding smooth over the soft hair there.

“God, look, look at you, the way your breathing changes, how soft your thighs are, how wet you are for me.” Unhooks her chin from Curie’s shoulder, kisses one shoulder and then the other. Leans her forehead and the tip of her nose against Curie’s chest again. Curie’s arm loosens across her shoulders, momentarily, then tightens again as Mal slides her hand off Curie’s thigh, angles her elbow out, cups her hand on Curie’s. “God, feel yourself,” Mal continues, pulls Curie’s hand to slide it through her folds. “You’re so wet.”

Curie laughs, tucks her head down against Mal’s so her ear rests on Mal’s temple and her breath ghosts over Mal’s ear.

“You are making me embarrassed,” she giggles. 

“I could say filthier things, if you’d like,” Mal offers, kisses a wet line across the tops of Curie’s breasts. “Tell you about how I’m gonna put my fingers in you, use them on you until you’re screaming, arching your back, can’t do anything but claw at my shoulders and breathe.” Moves her wet kisses down over one breast, lavishes attention on one peaked nipple. “Tell you about how I’ll get you on your back, kneel between your legs, use my tongue on you until you’re boneless, can’t even find the energy to squeeze your thighs around me anymore.” Pulls away long enough to speak, let her breath cool the wetness on Curie’s nipple, let Curie move her arm and fist her hand in Mal’s hair. Pulls her hand away from Curie’s, pushes at the inside of her thigh, moves her own legs to push Curie’s apart, open her more. “Tell you what you taste like,” pauses to mouth at Curie’s other nipple, “Kiss you so you could taste yourself.”

Curie groans, sighs, presses her fingers harder. 

“Good, good, you’re so good, so good for me,” Mal mutters, presses her shoulders forward so she pushes against Curie. “So pretty, beautiful, listen to yourself, God.” 

High noise in the back of Curie’s throat, just short of a squeak, just above a gasp. Tension from her shoulders all down through her spine as her humps into her hand, tension pulls Mal’s head back and Curie tries to pull her arms closer and refuses to release her grip on Mal’s hair.

“Put a finger inside yourself, feel yourself pulsing and clenching,” Mal murmurs, puts her hand back on Curie’s, pulls her fingers toward her opening. “Get the heel of your hand on your clit, yeah, like that, put your fingers in yourself.”

Curie squeaks, then, jumps, straightens her legs enough to jump in Mal’s embrace. Mal laughs against her breastbone, presses a wet kiss against the curve of her ribcage. 

“God, so beautiful, all for me, all for you,” Mal murmurs. “Perfect in every way.” Curie laughs at that, sighs as she moves her fingers inside herself. “Come for me, yeah?” Mal says against Curie’s collarbone. “Love you, love you, come for me, Curie, come for me, you’re so wet,” lets it turn into incoherent babble about how good she is, how beautiful, the way the muscles jump under her skin, the soft noises she makes in the back of her throat as the heel of her hand presses on her clit, her fingers work at her g-spot.

She comes easy, loose-limbed and soft, lets Mal’s hair go and cups the back of her head instead. Mal presses open mouthed kisses across her chest.

Curie slumps onto Mal’s shoulders after a moment, wraps both her arms around Mal. Mal laughs, tightens her arm around Curie’s back, tucks the other one around under her butt.

“Get your legs sorted,” Mal grunts, lifts her knees and dumps Curie further into her lap, tucks her feet around to her sides as Curie tries to keep her--wobbly, mostly-useless--legs out of the way. Mal tips forward, dumps Curie over on the mattress and lands heavy next to her. She rises, a little, kneels between Curie’s legs and presses soft kisses to her chin and jaw. “Do you want me to use my mouth on you?” she asks, voice low. “You don’t have to do anything, you just lay back and enjoy it.”

Curie hums, drops her arms off Mal’s shoulders and stretches them above her head. Stretches her legs out, too, digs her heels into the mattress. Breathes easy, only sound aside from the perpetual buzz of the cicadas and the distant siren-howl of a mutant hound.

“Oh, do not feel an obligation,” Curie replies.

“I want to,” Mal replies, scoots her way down the bed so her arms bracket Curie’s waist. “Know you’re wet, wanna taste you.” She grins wide, ducks down to kiss Curie’s ribs again.

Curie covers her face with her hands, groans.

“You are causing me embarrassment,” Curie repeats.

“Do you want me to stop?” Mal asks, waits for na answer.

“For now I think, yes,” Curie agrees, drops one arm from her face and taps her forearm against Mal’s shoulder, gestures for Mal to come face to face.

Mal obliges, kneewalks her way over Curie’s leg and settles in beside her.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Mal asks.

“I am taller than you,” Curie replies, rolls over so her back is to Mal. Mal rolls onto her side, tucks herself behind Curie. Runs her hand down Curie’s side, curls it over Curie’s stomach, drops it down Curie’s body, leaves it rest on the inside of her thigh.

“Yeah, you are,” Mal agrees. “But I can still be the big spoon. I’m bigger around than you.” She presses a kiss to the back of Curie’s neck. “Your thighs are still so wet, sweetheart.” Mal laughs, Curie squirms, Mal squirms too until she’s pressed flush against Curie’s back, no space between them.

“There is much more lubrication than when you are---wet.” Curie rests her hand over Mal’s.

“That’s how bodies are, yeah,” Mal agrees.

“It is--embarrassing.” Curie ducks her head.

“I love it, though. Love it a lot.” Mal tightens her hand on Curie’s thigh. “Love you a lot.”

Curie rolls over, cups Mal’s ear, and kisses her.


End file.
